


gutted

by fraldariuwus (sakesword)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cooking, During Canon, Ficlet, Fishing, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spoilers for Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25564285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakesword/pseuds/fraldariuwus
Summary: Byleth copes with his father’s death. Yuri’s there.
Relationships: Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 18
Kudos: 77





	gutted

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes i get in the mood to write something like this. 
> 
> pretty different from my regular style, but i wanted to try something new!
> 
> CW: there’s a fish gutting scene in this so please avoid if that would bother you.

Emptiness.

Byleth wishes it were pain, but it’s not.

His feet carry him to Abyss. He doesn’t think about why. The darkness welcomes Byleth, the torch-studded caverns are about all the light he can take. The Ashen Wolves’ broken classroom fits better than his own.

And Yuri. Standing there. Poised. Firmly planted where he belongs. Where he cares.

Yuri gifts Byleth the kindest of words, the knowing of sorrow.

He’s lost someone, too.

Many, by the stutter, the choke as sincerity lodges itself in the back of Yuri’s throat. The pretty voice cracks with the pretty mask.

But, Byleth can’t be here for Yuri, today.

People, Garreg Mach, Fódlan are depending on him. He needs to get stronger, he’s alone in the world, but for them.

Byleth departs with less than a word, only a nod acknowledges Yuri’s vulnerability. It isn’t enough.

His feet carry him to the training grounds. Byleth’s been challenged and he’ll answer the call.

The charcoal cloak pools to the ground. The practice blade is heavier than last he lifted it. He readies himself. What are a few contestants from the monastery when these hands are dyed red? He can’t speak.

Byleth dashes across the ring, kicking up sand, his Crest burns him.

A sword raised: without finesse, without elegance, with fury.

Byleth demonstrates why he’s been chosen to lead.

Two more rounds, and he will taste a hollow victory.

The next opponent steps onto the field, across from him. The young boy’s stance oozes sportsmanship.

The mercenary rushes him.

“Professor?” The boy questions before parrying the attack.

And the boy smirks, riposteing is simple with Byleth like this.

Byleth loses the match. His arm throbs from the thwack of a wooden training sword. His undershirt will need mending.

He goes to retrieve his cloak.

“Friend.” Yuri emerges from the pillar-kissed shadows.

Byleth says nothing as he drapes the cloak over himself and tries to stand taller. He wipes the sweat off his brow with the side of his hand.

Not now.

If Byleth sees those shiny lips, those violet eyes—the enigma of how they sparkle while as dull as chipped ice. If he inhales Yuri’s scent.

Byleth might cry. Like he did in front of everyone, like he did leaning over his father. For the first and last time.

Byleth squeezes his eyes shut and breathes, “I need to fish.”

It’s not a lie.

“I’ll join you,” Yuri says.

His feet carry him to the dock. On any other day, it’d be nostalgic. It’d be peaceful. It’d remind Byleth of when he was innocent. When all on his mind was the splash of the float, the bite at the end of the line, the moments father and son waited for it together, whether it came or not.

The waters are teeming here. At least, he’ll be able to provide for the students.

Yuri watches in silence as Byleth meditates.

Bait, cast, reel in.

Bait, cast, reel in.

Bait.

Cast.

Reel in.

It’s almost comical how many fish fill the bucket when Byleth stops. The sun is low enough to meet the sea.

He’ll have to gut them.

“Fetch some cold water and a bed of ice,” he orders Yuri.

Yuri’s high-heeled boots clack on the stone behind the pier.

Byleth removes his gloves, lays them to the side. Byleth places the first he kills on a mat designed for this purpose. He takes his dagger to the scales, they scintillate when they fall off. Byleth scrapes the fish clean.

Then his blade enters, he grasps the fish, keeping it in position as he flicks his other wrist, slicing up toward the face. The glassy eye staring up at him looks fake. He forces the knife through the bone between the fins and jaw.

He can dig in now. Byleth pries the gash open with his thumb. There’s a squelch when his fingers reach into the head, where the pink and red are connected.

Byleth pinches and pulls all of that out.

He removes the liver, he removes the white bladder sack. 

He rips free the bitter-imparting gills.

One down.

Yuri returns then, he receives what will be eaten, what he brought will keep it fresh.

It’s after dusk when Byleth is done, crickets chirp, and he feels stupid.

All of this needs to be cooked.

But then Byleth’s grateful, another repetitive task to occupy him. He’d relish in cleaning the stables.

They need to take multiple trips to transport today’s catch to the dining hall. Byleth doesn’t ask, doesn’t require him to be, but Yuri is there for each one.

“Thank you,” Byleth states when they’re finished and in the long, candlelit, table-filled chamber. Then he turns his attention to the stove, “Please get some rest.”

“Let me help,” Yuri offers. “This will go much faster with someone of my expertise.” Byleth forgot about Yuri’s cooking prowess. 

Guilt.

Before this, thoughts of Yuri were not uncommon: how talented he is, how powerful he is, how slight his waist is, how silky his hair seems, how it felt to protect him that night.

Emptiness and guilt consume Byleth further when Yuri takes the helm.

Yuri seasons the fish as he cooks it, the skin left on crisps up in oil, the fragrance permeates the air.

It’s only Byleth and Yuri here, this late.

It’s warm by the fire, but Byleth shivers. Tears well.

Byleth’s finger swipes a crescent beneath his eye.

Yuri’s too focused to notice, his white cape sways as he prods at the fillet with a spatula. There’s a sizzle.

Byleth exhales through his nostrils and droplets slide down his cheeks. He cannot stop them. They’re salty on Byleth’s lips.

Yuri turns around when the first fish is ready. 

Through a veil of liquid, Byleth glimpses shimmering fuchsia powder and thick black lashes. They get closer and Yuri’s small body presses into him. Yuri buries his face in Byleth’s shoulder, Byleth does the same.

They hold each other.

And Byleth lets go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, feel free to let me know what you think!
> 
> i love them... they’re there for each other.
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/fraldariuwus)


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